


The Passenger

by gwrites



Category: Logan (2017) - Fandom, Wolverine (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alcoholism, Canon-Typical Violence, Charles Xavier - Freeform, Depression, F/M, Logan (2017), Logan AU, Old Man Logan - Freeform, Original Character - Freeform, Sex, Sexy Times, Smut, Transigen - Freeform, Wolverine: Old Man Logan, Yes there is a plot, alkali-transigen, alternate universe logan (2017), caliban - Freeform, donald pierce - Freeform, laura kinney - Freeform, logan (2017) au, old man logan au, old man logan smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 10:52:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13165398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwrites/pseuds/gwrites
Summary: Alternating between resting at the smelting plant and driving in El Paso, Logan, ailing physically and emotionally and infrequently completely sober, drives his limo for money, for sanity, and for Charles. When a woman enters his limo for a ride home, Logan's life gets more intense, more confusing, and more dangerous than he had been counting on. AU set not too long before the events of Logan (2017).





	1. El Paso

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, friends! This is the first fic I've written in about five years, and the first prose I've written in too many months, so bear with me. I wanted to write this because I adore Logan (2017) and wanted to explore his character, and because, y'know, there's a severe lack of old man Logan smut. so. be warned. As of now (just prior to posting the first chapter), I have not planned out the fic much past the first two or three chapters, so we'll see where this goes! Also, forgive any spelling errors. I hope you enjoy it! ;)

A blur of streetlights and lit rooms through blinds-less windows surrounded Logan's limousine as he drove through the city. The sound of a distant siren rang in Logan’s ears. His passengers, a group of high school athletes incongruously dressed in suits and ties, laughed loudly in the back. Their raucous voices were already slightly slurred from the Zima they had brought with them, and the din permeated through the limo like the stink of a skunk. Times like these made Logan appreciate the fact that his mutation—at least the heightened senses—was wearing thin. 

Soon, thankfully, they arrived at the boys’ prom venue. Logan put the car in park and got out to open the door for them. 

“Better leave those here,” he said, taking a bottle of Zima out of the hand of one of the athletes as he exited, only a bummed remark of agreement in return. They swaggered off to the dance. 

Logan was glad to be rid of them, and he chuckled as he collected another two bottles of Zima from the back. Lightweight kids, he thought to himself, chuckling. He put one of the bottles in the glove box and the other two in the car door next to a mostly full bottle of Jack Daniels, and settled in the driver’s seat, checking his phone for the next passenger. 

Ten minutes later, Logan pulled up in front of an office building. A black-haired woman smiled as parted ways with a small group of coworkers as Logan got out to open the passenger door. 

“You really didn’t have to get me a limo!” she yelled after one of them. Logan noted her accent: almost forcedly American, the accent of a native Spanish speaker barely peaked through. But he could tell; he had an ear for detail.

“It’s your birthday. Accept the damned limo ride!” the coworker called in response. The woman laughed.  
Turning her attention toward the limo, she raised her eyebrow at the man opening the door for her. 

“Thank you,” she said to Logan as she stepped inside the car. 

“No problem.” Logan closed the door behind her and got back in the front. “Where to?”

“Garcia Lofts. Thanks.”

Logan flicked the turn signal on and drove. The ride was silent for a while, and only the sound of the air and the occasional turn signal filled the silence in the car. It was around a twenty minute drive, Logan estimated, and he was glad for a break in the conversation coming from the back. Something, however, bothered Logan. He felt restless. 

They came to a stoplight. Logan tapped his finger against the steering wheel. He felt impatient. He glanced in the rear view mirror at the woman.

“It’s your birthday?” he said, returning his eyes to the road. 

“Yep.”

“How old?”

She chuckled. Logan noticed her amusement and coughed. “Sorry, rude question.”

“No, it’s fine. 43.”

The light turned green. Logan kept his eyes on the road, and drove on. “Well, happy birthday.” He coughed again, wishing he could take a swig of the whiskey in his glove compartment. Hell, even the Zima. Logan glanced at her in the mirror. She looked good for 43. 

“Thanks,” she said. 

She looked at him in the mirror. "You look like a man who needs a drink."

He looked at her for a moment and chuckled. "Yeah, Jack Daniels is waiting for me when I'm done driving for the night."

The woman smiled, pausing before she spoke again. "Well... I don't have Jack Daniels, but there's some wine waiting in my kitchen right now if the drive's too long."

Logan smirked inwardly at the obvious come-on. Every now and then, some interaction with a member of the opposite sex told him he still had it. 

"Better not. I do still have to drive."

She looked into her lap, smiling lightly. "Yes, of course," she said, and returned her gaze to his eyes in the mirror. 

He looked back at her, then straight ahead. Another five, silent minutes passed before they reached her apartment complex. Logan put the limo in park. 

"Well, thanks for the ride. I'll give you five stars—wouldn't want to be in the hands of a drunk driver."  
The woman got out of the car, closing the door behind her, and Logan watched her for a second before driving away. 

\---

Logan’s body took its time waking up, grudgingly returning to consciousness with a dull headache. He opened his eyes, and immediately regretted it, for the morning sun blinded him through the limousine window opposite where he lay. Groaning as he sat up to escape the sun's rays, he felt his foot kick what felt and sounded like the empty Jack Daniel’s bottle. Sure enough, he looked down and the bottle sat on its side, its black label looking up at him. Full of liquor and sitting in the car door the night before, it had seductively and too easily compelled him to partake in its numbing pleasures. Now, it mocked him for having done so. 

Logan stayed in the city that day, wanting to earn a little extra cash from driving. Charles wouldn't need new medication until the day after, and Caliban could handle him for another 36 hours or so. Logan was driven by his responsibility to Charles, but nevertheless he was thankful not to be absolutely needed at the smelting plant, if only for a few days here and there. So, after getting a bite to eat (whenever in town, in the event that he decided to make himself eat breakfast, he frequented a locally owned diner), he picked up his first fare.


	2. The Passenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The woman returns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update! Patience is a virtue.
> 
> Kind of uneventful chapter, but get ready...

Fourteen hours of driving with the occasional break for rest and food passed. The traffic hadn't been too stressful, and the passengers kept the cabin tidy for the most part, but Logan's eyes had grown weary of watching the road ahead of him. One more fare, he decided, then shack up for the night. These past few months, Logan’s aching bones begged for a decent night’s rest every so often. Not that they got any.

Sitting at a red light, he checked his phone to find the next fare. There was one nearby—a woman named Carmen was three blocks away. He turned on his turn signal just as the light turned green and headed left. Logan was grateful for the space between when he dropped one passenger off and picked up the next, even if it normally lasted only a few blocks. It was still a few blocks fewer of potential forced conversation; a few blocks without heavy nose-breathers; a few blocks with no messes to be made. But, it was only a few blocks. 

Soon, he saw a woman who looked like she was waiting for a ride and slowed to a stop and got out to open the door for her. When she saw his face, she smirked. Logan looked at her for a moment.

"Wine lady."

"That's me." She smiled. 

"Do you have an addiction to riding in limos, or is it more of a hobby?" Logan said, smiling just enough to let her know he wasn’t being a complete asshole.

She chuckled. "Last night was a treat to myself from a coworker, tonight was a treat from me to someone else. Who isn't coming anymore."

"Ah." Logan opened the door. "Well, I hope you enjoy the solitude."

"Thank you, I hope I will too." She stepped inside, and he closed the door after her. 

Logan got back in the car and and drove away from the curb. "Where to?"

"Same place as last night. García Lofts."

Logan grunted a "K."

There was silence for a while as Logan drove. Even with his senses dulled from age and no particular thought about doing anything but pay attention to the road, Logan found himself listening to her breathing. It was steady, like his but not yet slowed by weariness from too many nights of no sleep. It was soft, quiet as the cool air slowly coming from the vents…

"How was that Jack Daniels?" Carmen’s voice pulled Logan from a trance he wasn’t aware he had fallen into. 

He checked the road, and glanced briefly at her in the rear view mirror. "Just what the doctor ordered."

"Mm."

Now, he noticed his own breathing.

More silence, then Carmen spoke again. "So, is driving a full-time thing for you?"

"More or less." Logan breathed in a sigh.

"How long have you been at it?"

"'Bout three years."

"And before that?"

"I've had a lotta jobs."

"Mm."

Logan came to a stop at a red light. He looked back at her through the mirror. She was watching the street outside her window. "So what do you do?" he said, frowning. 

She looked at him in the rear-view mirror. "I'm in sustainability management."

"Sustainability management." Logan nods.

She smiled, turning to look through the window. "I educate companies on ways they can lower their carbon footprint while still maintaining efficiency."

"Mm."

"It basically means I travel a lot. And tell companies what they should do, so they can go and do the opposite but still feel good about themselves for looking into their options. Cycle continues."

"Hm. Sounds thankless."

"Yeah, well, at least I get paid." She smiled at him in the rear-view mirror.

"Can't argue with that." 

"Anyway, you don't want to hear about my unsatisfying job and I don't want to talk about it."

"Fair." Logan watched the intersection in front of him for a few seconds, then chuckled.

"What?"

Logan glanced in the mirror. "When I was young, your job didn't even exist."

"Oh, you're not that old."

Logan raised an eyebrow to himself and cocked his head ever so slightly. Carmen's gaze had returned to the street outside. 

The turn signal ticked, and the light turned green.

Soon, they arrived at the apartment building. Carmen grabbed her purse from the seat beside her, but hesitated to stand. She looked at Logan in the mirror as he unbuckled his seatbelt, preparing to get the door for her. 

"Still have a date with Jack Daniel’s tonight?"

Logan stopped and looked at her in the mirror. "I do."

"You want company? I still have that wine."

Logan looked away from the mirror and opened his door. "No, thank you," he said, closing his door behind him and opening the passenger door. Carmen stepped out. In the light of a nearby street lamp, he could see her more clearly than before. She held her jaw stretched out slightly, lips closed but on the cusp of telling some smiling words. Her expression reminded him of a frame of Rita Hayworth playing some smart, alluring character in a film whose name he had long since forgotten. He wondered who had turned her down.

"Come in. It's not healthy to drink alone... Logan, was it?"

Logan smiled slightly. "Lady, I don't know you."

"You've never had a drink with a woman you didn't know? Pardon me if I find that hard to believe."

He wondered _if_ somebody had turned her down. 

"Not with a passenger, and not in her apartment."

Carmen, silent for a second, smiled lightly at the ground. The warm streetlight glinted off her faintly glossed lips as she raised her head again to look at him. 

"First time for everything, isn’t there?”


	3. The Apartment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calm before the storm... (or conversation before the smut)

Carmen flipped a switch and warm, dim light flooded the apartment. She walked to a kitchen cabinet, setting her keys and purse on the counter, and pulled out a bottle of red wine. 

"Couch is over there," she said, gesturing. 

Logan went to the couch and sat. A little soft for him, but the leather was nice and smooth. Carmen soon walked over with two glasses of wine, handing one to Logan as she sat down in a chair perpendicular to the couch. Logan took a sip and swallowed. 

"Not what I'm used to, but it ain't bad."

"I'm glad you like it."

Logan looked around the apartment. 

“Sustainability management must pay well.”

Carmen smiled. “Well enough.”

Logan took a sip of wine, letting it linger before swallowing. “Do you often invite your Uber drivers in for a drink?”

“Oh, every time. And they always oblige.”

“I’m sure they do.” He smirked into his glass.

“I’m bound to be broke soon, paying for all this wine and Uber rides.”

“There are worse things to throw away your money on.”

“Absolutely. Are you the glass half full type?”

“Well, usually, it’s a bottle...”

Carmen laughed. “I see.” 

Logan smiled. He knew how pathetic the joke was, considering, but was grateful for the brevity of the conversation. He wasn’t in the mood to peruse deep thoughts. 

Carmen held her wineglass delicately. Logan took another sip. “You have family?” she said. 

He swallowed. “Yeah, I live with my father, take care of him. His health isn’t too good.” Why did he include that part? “Uh, do you?”

“Nope, just me. Used to be married.”

Logan looked into his glass. “Mm.” He took a bigger sip. The wine was dry and sour; it stung well as it went down his throat.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” It was more statement than question. 

“I don’t like wasting my breath on things that don’t need saying, you know what I mean?” He looked at her as she took another sip from her glass.

“Yes. I do.” Her voice lilted casually. “Have you lived in El Paso long?”

He swallowed a sip. “‘Bout three years, you?”

“Been here since I was nine.”

“So you know the city well.”

“Yeah, pretty well.” She finished her glass. “Where were you before?”

He paused. “New York… Canada before that.”

“Why’d you move out here?”

“Uh, the cold wasn’t good for my dad’s health.”

“Most people go to Florida.”

“Yeah, most people do.” Logan downed the last of the wine. 

Carmen stood up, reaching for his glass. “More wine?”

Logan stood up. "Ah, no. Thank you for the drink and the conversation, but I should go."

He made his way to the door, and Carmen followed. She reached to open the door for him, but her hand hesitated at the doorknob. Smiling slightly, she moved her hand from the doorknob to Logan's arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the smut train...


	4. The Bedroom

She stroked his arm, then settled her hand on his cheek. "Thanks for the company."

Her fingers caressed the hair at his temples. His arms stayed by his side.  
She slid her hand to Logan's neck and kissed him.

At the touch of the flesh of her lips on his, Logan's heartbeat quickened. He felt her other arm circle his waste. His stomach clenched.  
She pulled away to look at him. 

"Lady..."

“Carmen.”

“All right, Carmen—“

"Give yourself a break… let yourself have this," she whispered, and kissed him again more urgently. Then, keeping eye contact, she slid her hand down Logan's chest. "You want this, don't you?" 

His chest rose heavily. "Y-"

Her hand reached his groin and she began to feel his erection through his pants. He gasped, he hoped imperceptibly. She began kissing his neck, his collar bone, his jaw, and he closed his eyes, breathing out as she pressed more firmly into his pants. While his senses had dulled some in the preceding three years, they were still above the average man’s capabilities. The scent of her arousal filled him. And, god, was it sexy. She brought a hand to his face and ran her fingers through his beard, scratching his jaw underneath, eliciting a growl from his throat. He had lost the fight. He gave in.

He soon found his hands sliding up and down her sides, exploring and roaming her body, eyes still closed. They moaned quietly at each other’s touch, and he began to grind slowly into her body, the need for friction growing. His hand reached her breast and as his fingers firmly caressed it, she kissed his lips. A gentle kiss led to open mouthed urgency as she walked—pushed—Logan to the bedroom. In what felt like a single second, she had pushed Logan onto the bed, kissing him even harder than before. He broke away, trying catching his breath. He coughed once or twice, his throat dry from breathing so heavily. Seduction in her eyes, she urged him further back on the bed. 

His head hit the pillows. She slid her feet out of her heels and made quick work of her dress, revealing a black bra that finely cupped her breasts. Taking off his jacket, Logan viewed her curves with little surprise at their beauty. She started on his shirt, unbuttoning it enough to pull it, and then the tank top, over his shoulders. He winced at this. His bare chest was covered in scar tissue and half-healed bruises. She looked at them, then at Logan's eyes. Briefly, he worried that she would ask about the scars littering his chest. To his relief, not a word came out of her mouth. Instead, she slowly pressed a kiss on his neck, then more down his chest, not skipping over his scars. Her lips were warm. When her kisses reached his v-line, she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. He pulled them off after kicking his shoes to the floor, and slowly she slid down his briefs. His skin shivered at her fingers’ touch. 

“Fuck, you’re big,” she said, admiring him.

Just as sensually as she had placed kisses down his chest, she took his hard length into her hand, stroked it a few times, and steadily slid herself around it. Logan exhaled at the sensation, a grunt escaping his mouth. This slick, delicious warmth was something he hadn’t felt in some time, yet it somehow felt as familiar to him as swigging from his bottle Jack Daniels. She rolled her hips to accommodate him, groaning as she did, and soon made a steady rhythm. Back and forth, like a tug of seaweed in a strong current. Logan moved his hips against with her, meeting her body as she came down, pushing his heels against the bed to push himself backward. No liquor down Logan’s throat came close to feeling this good. 

Carmen’s hands alternated between his shoulders, his arms, and the bed for support as she increased her speed. Logan’s hands were on her hips, her ass, urging the rhythm to quicken its pace. He groaned quietly, closing his eyes, and was met with hot lips against his stubbled neck. Opening his eyes, he responded, freeing a hand to bring her head up and kissing her on the mouth. She ran her hands through his beard, his hair, stroking whatever part of his head she could find. Their kisses coincided with the movement of their bodies, their tongues mingling for as long as they could hold a breath. 

He could feel her clenching more tightly around him, and she moaned into their kiss. She whispered something that sound like “I’m so close.” but damned if Logan could hear her words. Increasingly ragged, heavy breaths replaced their kisses. Logan was overcome with tension and threw his head back, nearly hitting the headboard. As he thrust more urgently into her, Carmen moaned loudly, coming undone. She groaned as she orgasmed, digging her fingers into his biceps. 

“Keep g–” His breathing was so heavy that getting any words out was difficult. “Fuck.” He grunted, the sensitive head of his cock hitting her cervix with torturously visceral rhythm. “Don’t stop. Don—“ He dropped his hands and gripped the sheets. The clenched muscles in his forearms burned as his claws slowly crept through them. “God.” With what little, faltering restraint he had, he kept them in, holding them only milimeters away from forcing apart the bones in his wrist. He fought against his muscles’ primal urge to unsheathe the claws as the flaming pressure in his cock grew stronger, almost unbearably so. His face contorted from the painful pleasure of it. It was an addicting hell. 

Near silent moans escaped from his chest between quick, shallow breaths. He opened and closed his eyes, unable to be consistent in any part of his body anymore. When he opened his eyes, he didn’t see the ceiling; he saw stars. He thrust himself into her again, and the tension broke. Gruffly groaning, he filled her with himself in spurts. “Fuck.” The sudden release was a mind-blowing relief. He threw his head back, spent. She arched her back, taking him in as he bucked once, twice more into her, then lay her head on his chest, both of them panting like dogs. 

“Fuck,” Logan growled. 

Carmen raised her hand and ran her fingers through his beard. He kissed her palm lingeringly, her salty skin delicious to his tastebuds. Their eyes were both closed. Heavy breaths calmed and slowed. He was still inside her, their heat momentarily inseparable. Neither of them wanted to move a centimeter. 

Logan swallowed between breaths. His throat was as dry as the desert outside the city, and to his annoyance, he began to have a coughing fit. Carmen lifted her head up to look at him. 

“Are you okay?”

Logan quelled his cough enough to answer in the affirmative, but the fit was reluctant to die down. Seconds later, he lay panting more from the coughing fit, eyes watering slightly. She still looked at him.

“I’m fine,” he said, but his throat burned. 

“You sure?”

“Fine.” He nodded slightly, closing his eyes again. 

Carmen lay her head back down on his rising chest.

—

His eyes looked over her body as he buckled his belt. She lay up against the headboard, her still naked body glowing with cooling sweat and a glint lingering in her eyes. Logan was aching, but now he didn’t quite mind the reasons for it. He wasn’t wholly regretful of the degredation of his healing factor. He grabbed his shoes from where they had fallen and sat at the foot of the bed to put them on. He heard the shifting of sheets and soon felt Carmen as she climbed up behind him, her hands exploring the skin under his shirt, her fingers playing with his chest hair. 

“Mmm.” He closed her eyes at her touch. 

“You got those all right?” She kissed his neck. 

He leaned into her, wishing his shirt wasn’t separating her breasts and the skin of his back. “Mmhm.” He put the other shoe on. 

She nipped his ear. “You’re a good fucking lay, you know that?” 

He smirked slightly. “You’re not bad yourself.”

He felt her hand dip between the wife-beater and his chest. His skin shivered when two cold, slender fingertips grazed his left nipple. His eyes closed for a moment, then he turned his head to look at her. 

“I should go now.”

“Yeah, you should.” She flicked his nipple, making him flinch. 

His smirk left, and he looked at her for a long moment, no emotion in his face. Then he leaned down to suck the side of her neck hard enough to leave a mark, stood up, and left the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. There's that.


	5. The Smelting Plant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Respite with Caliban and Charles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to update somewhat regularly. Sorry this one's so short. I have part of the next chapter written, so... it'll be up when it's up!

“Logan.”

Logan closed the door behind him, taking his jacket off as he walked into the dim space, not answering the tall man in the cloak.

“Logan,” Caliban said again, “you’re back early. I thought you were coming later tonight.”

“Decided to get a head start. Here’s the medicine.” His reply was blunt as he set a bag of pills on the counter.

“Did you get the right kind?” Caliban said.

“Yeah, I got the right kind, now wouldya let me settle in? I just got back.”

“Sure,” Caliban said, slumping over a bit. “Sorry… I’ll give the man his medicine.”

Logan breathed in. “No, I’ll do it. Give you a break.” Logan picked up the bag again. “ ‘S he done with the bottle he has?”

“Yes, you can start the new one. It’s a good thing you came back early instead of staying an extra day.”

Logan grunted in reply, took the new bottle of pills out of the bag, and set off for the water tank.

Outside, one solitary stamp of shapeless cloud hung just below the sun, refusing to drift just enough to block it. To the west, a shelf of grey clouds hung low near the faraway hills. Logan hoped the clouds would come nearer, even if just to drop a few minutes of light rain. If not, maybe the breeze might shake up the stale, dusty smell.

Logan reached the door and pulled it open with a quiet grunt, then shut it behind him. In the center of the hazily dim room sat Charles in his chair, tending to the plants that crowded the surface the table beside him. If he had heard Logan enter, he didn’t acknowledge it.

“Charles,” said Logan, making his way to the table. Unscrewing the lid from the bottle of pills clenched in his hand, he coughed a bit. “Time for your medicine, old man.”

Charles turned slightly in his chair to face him. “I should be inclined to say that’s a case of the pot calling the kettle black, wouldn’t you think?” His voice was weaker than the steady voice it had once been, but his spirit was ornery.

Logan chuffed humorlessly. “These aren’t my pills, though, and I know well enough how old I am. Well. To some extent.”

“You don’t know how o–” He looked down, suddenly remembering. “Oh…” 

“It’s okay.” Logan tapped out a pill into his palm. This wasn’t the first time Charles had forgotten. “I sometimes forget too, that I don’t know my own age. There’s a lot of other shit to keep track of, ya know?”

“Yes, I suppose so…” Charles wheeled his chair around, his back towards Logan.

Logan sighed. “Come on, Chuck, take the pill. Look– you’ve got a glass of water by your bed; I’ll get that for ya, and you take the pill.” Logan rounded the head of the bed, grabbed a glass of water he hoped was fresh enough with his free hand, and walked back over to Charles. 

As Logan started to hold the glass and pill out to Charles, a deep chuckle began to come from Charles’ mouth. Logan stuttered, annoyed. “Charles, what is it; ya can’t keep puttin’ this off, and I’m not gonna stay in here all day. I’ve got a bed to get to.” 

Charles’ chuckling became full-chested laughter, such as he could produce in his present frailty.

“Charles.” Annoyance had made his tone harsh.

Just when Logan began to worry that Charles’ laughter was out of a lack of mental control rather than humor, Charles spoke, imitating a woman’s American accent: “Fuck, you’re big.” 

Logan almost squeezed the glass into shards. “Chuck, do not fucking go there, and take the goddamn pill.”

Swinging his wheelchair around again, Charles caught his breath as his laughter subsided. “I’m having trouble controlling it, Logan, you’ll have to forgive me.”

“Yeah, well don’t fucking say it out loud. K?” Logan once again stepped in front of the old man. “Charles,” he said firmly.

Smiling, Charles looked up. “What, Logan?”

“The pill.” 

Charles sighed and took the glass and pill from his hands.

\- - -

Logan stayed at the smelting plant for several days. He had made decent enough money to last for a while at least, and Caliban agreed that he should take a break from the road. Get some rest. Breathe a little. Rest during the day was impossible, for during his waking hours his body was either aching with pain or dizzy from alcohol. There had once been a time when Caliban had tried, with good intentions, to hide the bottles that littered the table by Logan’s bed and stocked a cabinet’s worth of shelves in their makeshift kitchen. A blunt and necessary conversation one night had put an end to Caliban’s efforts. Now, even with the sufficiently stocked supply of alcohol, the only rest Logan got was when he had the fortune to fall into a dead sleep. Logan didn’t dream often, except for the weekly-or-so nightmares that filled his mind with grim and violent memories of the past. Otherwise, sleep was a heavy and unremitting darkness that swallowed Logan and his wandering thoughts whole. Even though it took hours from his day, from his life, the nothingness was a relief.

And so this string of days and nights at the smelting plant went: no nightmares that frightened the brain, no pleasant dreams to calm it; only the heavy silence of absolute sleep.


	6. The Limo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ladiesandgentsthisisthemomentyou'vewaitedfor: hanky panky in the limo. Because what else is a limo for.
> 
> Also some dumb Theatre Man Hugh Jackman references, because I couldn't help myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY for taking so long to update. School's a bitch.

White hot sun bore through Logan’s eyelids as he once again came to on the long backseat of his limo. The dusty car was once again parked in an empty lot a few miles outside of El Paso, and the beating sun filled the cabin with a strangling, dry heat. Forcing himself to sit up, Logan groaned—he had a killer headache and a slightly unsettled stomach. He cursed his younger self for being resistant to hangovers. Resistant to a whole lot of other shit, too, but he didn’t care to think too hard about that. He looked at the floor: another empty Jack Daniels seemed to nod at him in greeting. He’d need to take care of that. 

Thirty minutes later, he drove into the city proper, whiskey replenished and in slightly better shape. He opened his phone, notifying the app that he was available to drive. The map showed no passengers in need of a driver, so he continued on for a few minutes, killing time. 

Stopped at a red light, Logan checked his phone again. Seven blocks away, a dot: Carmen. He wondered if it was the same.

 _Some coincidence_ , he grumbled in his thoughts. For a short moment, Logan thought he heard a faint growl eminating from some dark, forgotten corner of his mind. 

_Huh._

After a few minutes of driving, he pulled up to the curb. The same Carmen who had pleasured Logan almost a week before approached the car, a slight smirk barely visible on her face. Logan found himself sighing—he was wary of seeing people too often who weren’t either Charles or Caliban—but, in good taste, he stepped out to open the door for the woman. 

“Hi,” she said as she stepped into the car. 

“Hi.” Logan closed the door behind her and got back in the car. He looked at her in the rear view mirror as she settled into her seat. “Is the meter running today?” 

Carmen smiled. “That depends; would you prefer it to be running?”

“Do you have anywhere to go?”

“Nowhere in particular. Haven’t gotten out of the city in a while.”

Logan caught the desire in her eye. “All right.” He put the car in drive and returned to traffic.

“How long have you been driving this thing? Looks fairly new.”

“About a year in this one; had a Nissan before for a little while.”

“You get some interesting customers?”

Logan internally chuckled. “Interesting.” Yeah. “Ohh, yeah. Businessmen, kids on their way to prom, bachelorette party groups—sometimes have to clean up after them.” He cleared his throat. “Once drove a group of actors to a cast party after their final performance of Les Mis. They sang the whole ride. It was very emotional.”

Carmen laughed. “I played Éponine in my high school’s production.”

“Really?” Logan looked at her again, lifting his eyebrow. “Have dreams of bein’ a Broadway star, did ya?”

“Oh, no more than anyone else who auditioned for every school play and musical from middle school on.”

Logan chuckled. 

“Yeah, you don’t seem like the theater kid type,” she said. 

“You would be correct about that.”

“Now I’m imagining you as a high school kid... all smiles and sweaty stage makeup at curtain call.”

“Powerful imagination.” 

“Well, I’ve already seen you sweaty; just a few modifications and it’s right there in my mind, clear as day.”

He shot her a look. “I bet you don’t look much different.”

“Sure I do; I was just a skinny kid then.” Her voice was as smooth as velvet. 

“Mm.” Logan nodded and returned his eyes to the road. 

Silence settled in the car for several minutes. They were nearly out of the city by now, passing the suburbs and getting nearer to the foothills, which rose larger and larger in front of them, dry brown and hot in the sun. Logan had driven this route enough times, taking people to and from downtown or on his own, to find an hour of solitude in the hills when he needed it, but he looked at the road, the cars, the streetsigns, all the same. He had an inkling that if he released focus on the route he knew well to look in the mirror at the woman in his back seat, he was liable to forget to break when it became necessary.

Carmen, meanwhile, had taken absently to feeling the smooth leather of the seat, running her fingernails over the area of small holes between the seatbelt buckles on either side of her. The textures were familiar enough to be uninteresting, but Logan could hear her quietly caressing the leather nevertheless. 

Carmen admired Logan’s face in the mirror. He looked weathered, but something about his scars and the grizzled grey in his beard was undeniably attractive. Logan heard the click of her unbuckled seatbelt, her clothes shifting as she slinked towards the driver’s seat, her breath as it got close enough to touch his skin. She slid her hands down his chest. 

Logan let out a breath, his chest expanding to her touch. “This again, huh.”

She brought a hand up to his beard. “What, do you mind?” She elongated her words. 

As she began exploring under his button front, her fingers now caressing the hair on his chest, he breathed out, his heart rate increasing. “I am used to a certain level of personal space when I’m driving.” He exhaled. _Not that I mind._

She suddenly took her hands away and returned to her seat. Logan closed his eyes for a moment, clenching his jaw at the loss of her touch, and the lingering effects of it. He resisted looking at her in the mirror. Neither spoke for a few moments, but her deep attempts at steady breaths were loud in the silence, and his lungs responded in same. Unknown to Carmen, Logan could hear her quickening heartbeat. They were in the hills now, increasingly alone.

“Logan.”

At the sound of her voice, his eyes immediately darted to her reflection in the mirror. A faint warm, sour scent entered Logan’s nose. A growl came again in his mind, and this time Logan knew that he’d heard it.

“Yeah.”

She paused for a second. “Pull over.”

Logan saw a hunger in her eyes and, subconsciously, he reciprocated. 

She subtly licked her lips, probably unaware of doing so. “God damnit, pull over, Logan.”

He held her gaze in the mirror and flipped the turn signal on. 

A minute later, he was parked in a makeshift rest spot off the main road. He got out of the car calmly, unbuckling his belt before he even stepped back in, an expression of determined hunger on his face. He pulled the passenger door closed behind him and climbed on top of Carmen, who was already on her back waiting for him. He unzipped his pants and hiked her dress up roughly, feeling the dampness between her legs. He hovered over her, and they breathed the same hot air for a few achingly charged moments, before he took his already hard cock out, shoved her panties aside, and pushed himself into her. 

“Ahh, ffuck.” His breathing was ragged already. Carmen responded in kind with moans of pleasure between heavy breaths. 

“Take your shirt off, I wanna feel you,” she sighed, a hint of desperation in her lust-ridden voice. 

Shifting his weight to knees, he ground into her as he removed his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt, and finally pulled his tank top over his head. All layers ended up on the dirty floor of the limo, her shirt and bra, too, as Logan lowered himself over her. Carmen shivered when his chest slid over her breasts, and slid her hands down his scarred, toned back. Their chests parted as he continued to thrust into her. He moved on her, his large right hand grabbing her breast. Squeasing and caressing, pinching and soothing, his hands punished her and pleasured her. Then it moved, making its way agonizingly slowly to her clit, eliciting a short yell from her as his calloused fingers found their destination. Succombing to the pleasure of his fingers’ faster and faster pace, Carmen threw her head back. Letting out a real growl, Logan craned his neck down and bit her neck, then sucking and licking to soothe the spot he bit. At this, Carmen lifted her head up, smiling devilishly at him, and when her fingers slid lightly, teasingly through the hair on his lower stomach in response, they both groaned. His stomach clenched over her, she clenched around him as he slid in and out of her.

Carmen’s eyes were squeezed shut as her hips flew up into his. “Logan—ahh god—I’m gonna—”

His thrusts were punctuated by the wet slap of skin against skin and met with increasingly deep, throaty gasps. His growls, coming freely out loud now, vibrated in his expanding and contracting chest. “Come on, baby.” Logan bit his lip to stifle a louder groan. “I need— fuck, I need—” Carmen’s deep blue-colored fingernails dragged across his back, scraping his flaming skin. “Harder,” he growled..His demand was met with harsher, deeper scratches. As she orgasmed with a scream, they broke skin. 

That set him over the edge. A loud, deep-throated groan escaped from Logan as he came. He clenched his teeth and grunted, enjoying Carmen’s pleasure as she dug her nails hard across his skin again. One of her slender, strong hands moved to his head, fingers raking through his beard, in the hair above his neck. He felt the fingers of her other hand grasp around his bicep, and his muscles clenched in her hand as he rutted into her. When he felt her nails dig into the skin there, he struggled to keep himself propped up above her. 

Thrusting several times more, he finished in her. Breathless, he lifted himself off of her, finally taking his weight off his arms as Carmen curled her legs up to leave room for him to sit. After a moment, his breath and heart having calmed some,, Logan put himself back inside his pants and leaned down to retrieve his shirt from the floor.

“Logan.”

“What?” Leaning back up, he gave Carmen’s shirt to her. She took it passively in her hand, not replying. “What,” Logan repeated, and he turned, catching her eyes as they glanced from his back to his face. Her eyes stayed on his for several seconds before she responded.

“You’re a mutant.”

Then, he realized, noting a dull itch on his back. Her scratches were healing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the disappointing smut/plot ratio... More To Come (of both. stick with me.)


End file.
